Bindings
by Caroline
Summary: [GCR, GSF, hints of NSR] 'We thought he selected his victims at random. He didn’t. He chose her. He hunted her… and trapped her.' Alternate version to episode 506, 'What's Eating Gilbert Grissom'. Fifth chapter of several is up.
1. Chapter 1

BINDINGS

Chapter 1 of ?  
Spoilers: "What's Eating Gilbert Grissom?" (506)  
Genre: GCR, GSF; hints of NSR  
Author's Note: This is a sort of alt-ep for 'WEGG'; some of the details differ from the episode, and, as you can guess, the storyline deviates from the actual aired ep. This also fulfills letter 'B' of the alphabet challenge.  
Summary: "We thought he selected his victims at random. He didn't. He chose her. He hunted her… and trapped her."

* * *

"Hey, boss," Nick's Texan drawl greeted the graveshift supervisor on his way back into CSI, the two men striding down the halls toward each other. "How'd the investigation at that sex shop go?"

Grissom stopped in his tracks, one eyebrow making a slow arch above the other, amusement dancing in his eyes though his tone was stern. "A little louder, Nicky? I'm not so sure all the lab techs heard you."

Nick glanced around at the handful of inquisitive stares they were receiving, and bowed his head sheepishly. "Sorry."

Grissom shook his head in response, dismissing the apology along with the slip-up. "I didn't find anything probative… except maybe this." He held up the large plastic evidence bag, in which was a comic. An adult comic from the look of it, drawn with either charcoal or pencil… and appearing as if it were bound by an amateur.

"'Hot Blooded?'" Nick's eyes scanned the title, narrowing slightly at the content of the comic.

Grissom nodded. "I'm bringing it to Sara to have her analyze the drawings. Have you seen Catherine?"

Nick jerked a thumb over his shoulder, in the general direction of the morgue. "She just finished up in autopsy with Doc Robbins. She said she was heading over to the campus to interview the girl's roommate."

Grissom nodded once more, and muttered a brief, "Thanks, Nicky," before the men parted ways once more.

* * *

"The TV said you were looking for information on Kaitlin Rackish."

Catherine nodded, flicking her strawberry-blonde bangs out of her eyes while she studied briefly a photo of the blonde victim and her roommate, both in bikinis, smiling on a beach in Somewhere, USA. "When was the last time you saw Kaitlin?" she asked, setting the photo back down on the nearby vanity table.

"Monday," the brunette roommate, who'd introduced herself as Mandy Cooper, replied. "But I've been pledging, so I haven't slept in the dorm the last couple nights. I just thought I kept missing her."

"Can you tell me what the two of you did on Monday? All the details."

After several more minutes talking with Kaitlin's roommate, Catherine had everything she needed for the time being. Their suspect from the previous murders was back on the list: Cody Lewis, the art teacher.

She sighed disgustedly at the turn of events, shaking her head as she stalked down the path leading from Kaitlin's dormitory. She gave her hair a toss, turning her head up to the dusky blue sky, momentarily noting the blend of blues from the deep sapphire of the eastern horizon, to the dusty periwinkle laced with pink on the western horizon.

The campus was deserted now; on a Friday night most inhabitants of the nearby dorms were off at parties, either at other dorm houses or the various fraternities and sororities sprinkled across the campus. A select few were on their way to the seven o'clock classes, readjusting their backpacks over their shoulders as they trudged with eyes downcast along often-trod routes.

Catherine's hand fluttered out beside her almost instinctively, reaching for the nearby railing as she crossed the small creek separating two halves of the quad. Her hand glided along the smooth rail as she continued to stare at the ever-darkening sky, and the large trees towering above her… not noticing until she'd crossed the bridge that her fingers were wet.

Time seemed to freeze; every sound faded from her consciousness as her head bowed, almost in slow motion, to inspect what was on her hand. At the sight of blue staining the bulbs of her fingers, she drew in an inaudible breath, suddenly hearing her heartbeat thudding in the walls of her ears.

She glanced surreptitiously at her surroundings, catching sight of a couple ending what looked to be a sloppy kiss before simultaneously bending down and gathering their belongings, heading off toward who-knows-where, hand-in-hand. Again, Catherine glanced down at her hand, everything continuing to move in slow motion.

She brought her thumb to her fingers, rubbing the paint between them, as if testing the consistency. She smelled her fingers next, jerking back at the first scent of motor oil; her heart thudding even louder and more rapidly.

Her azure eyes, alight with a complex combination of fear and confidence, searched out a water fountain. As she walked over to it, she felt as if, for a moment, she was in the victim's shoes; not knowing her life was about to be ended by the whimsy of some psychotic bastard.

Catherine watched as her foot pressed the pedal on the fountain, triggering an arcing stream of water. She placed her hands under the stream, feeling herself detaching from her body. Probably the last thought on these girls' minds before their abductions is how to get this stupid paint off, she thought, a vertical crease appearing between her brows as she rubbed her hands together, trying in vain to wash away the slick blue coating on her fingertips.

When she was grabbed from behind, she was hardly surprised. Something was placed over her mouth and she detached from her body further. She almost watched outside herself as she lamely struggled against whoever had her in their grasp, inwardly reminding herself to leave a clue. Like last time, she thought bitterly, being reminded of an all-too-long drive in a silver sports car three years earlier.

She tilted her body to the side, knowing her attacker would mistake this as more struggling, while she listened for the sound of her cell phone hitting the pavement. Luckily, the plastic-on-concrete sound was lost amid the scuffle, and Catherine was able to nudge her phone up against the water fountain before her assailant forced her down the path, leading her… most likely… to her inevitable and inescapable demise.

* * *

TBC 


	2. Chapter 2

BINDINGS

Chapter 2?  
Rating/Spoilers/etc.: See chapter one.

* * *

Sara frowned down upon the pages laid out in front of her, each drawing depicting a more horrifying scene than the last. Each page of the comic had been copied, laid side-by-side on an evidence table for her further examination and analysis. She now glanced back and forth between one picture, and the notes she was scrawling on a pad of paper.

'FEAR BASED': As she scrawled this blindly, her eyes soaked in a disturbing image of a man threatening a woman. She shook her head at the dehumanization of it all.

'DOMINANT': In the next drawing, a close-up on a woman's face was shown, her eyes shut as if to avoid watching any torture that was being done or about to be done to her.

'DISASSOCIATIVE': The third drawing depicted a woman walking down a street alone, half-naked and beaten, as if the artist gave no thought to the well-being of this woman he was sketching.

She continued to glance from picture to picture, occasionally scrawling words or phrases to define the different drawings; but found her attention slowly being drawn to two male voices just outside the door, two equally familiar and equally valued, discussing semantics of their current case.

The first voice belonged to her supervisor. "So, our killer was driving around in Mathers' old van."

The second belonged to her colleague--that Southern drawl was quite hard to mistake--one of her closest friends and the closest she'd had to a significant other for almost two years. "I don't think these guys are an original and a copycat. They were partners."

Silence reigned momentarily, before she could almost physically feel her supervisor nodding in response. His tone then changed, enquiring with a hint of worry lacing his rich tenor, "Have you heard from Catherine at all?"

"No boss, not since I saw her coming out of autopsy with Robbins. Why?"

"She should've been back by now," she heard Grissom murmur apprehensively.

Sara then felt her brunette counterpart shrug, and she smiled, her mind's eye perfectly envisioning the perplexed look on Nick's features, wondering what to say to placate their supervisor. "Relax, Grissom, I'm sure she'll be back soon."

Grissom then muttered something in response, something that skirted just along the edges of Sara's hearing, before the two men parted ways… the charming Texan heading somewhere toward DNA while Grissom's footsteps approached the evidence room she was now occupying.

"Sara…" His head poked around the corner before the rest of his body followed, and she suppressed a smile, feigning surprise to see him.

"Grissom, hey!" she greeted, and drew his attention to the drawings laid out in front of her. "I've been taking a look at these dr--"

"Why don't you come down to the WLVU campus with me to check out some of those newly-installed railings," he broke in, stress hugging his boyish but aging features.

She paused, a bit taken aback by his blatant brushing off of her findings. When the meaning behind this sudden suggestion sank in, she nodded slowly, knowing that the whereabouts of the strawberry-blonde was at the forefront of his thoughts.

Sara had once fancied Grissom for herself, had thought that perhaps he'd felt something for her as well. Over the summer though, after an embarrassing narrow escape from a DUI, she'd learned differently. Though he didn't outwardly admit to anything, she realized where his affections lay. And though this notion had itched at her several times over her five years in Vegas, she'd pushed it to the back of her mind, believing that he felt something more for her than friendship.

Grissom was in love with Catherine. So deeply in love that when the slightest thing was wrong with her or going wrong in her life, all thoughts of work were pushed aside. And this was a man who was a workaholic. Sara realized over the summer she'd never be able to compete with whatever he and Catherine had, and had slowly resolved to get over him, focusing her attention elsewhere… namely on the tall, charming Texan she'd flirted with for five years.

At times like this, though, where his devotion to the strawberry-blonde was so intense that it was nearly blinding… it hurt Sara. Pangs of jealousy knocked her square in the chest, but she pushed it all away, knowing he needed indulgence now. However silly his reasons for going to the campus were, she knew he needed to see Catherine to be able to focus on work again. "Sure Grissom, I can go with you," she responded softly.

He nodded once, his cerulean eyes practically sparkling their thanks at her, before he turned on his heel and exited the room, calling to her over his shoulder to meet him at the Denali. She smiled.

* * *

"So basically we need to pay close attention to the cement," Grissom instructed her as they meandered down one of the many paths at WLVU. "The railing Catherine and I found earlier had fresh cement, meaning he's not only painting these railings, he's installing them."

Sara nodded, quickening her stride a bit to match his, knowing he needed to flip into 'supervisor' mode in order to properly mask his worry over Catherine. "Okay." She nodded toward a blue-painted railing as they passed it. "I'll check this one out."

"Good." Sara watched briefly as Grissom reached into the pocket of his forensics vest, pulling out his cellular phone. "I'm going to call Catherine and have her meet us here."

"Okay, Grissom." She hadn't meant it to sound so... sympathetic. It had somehow seeped through. From the look on her boss' face, however, he hadn't noticed a thing. He was already busy pressing the speed dial button that would connect him with Catherine... then pacing as he waited for her to answer.

A cell phone loudly ringing drew both criminalists' attention, both looking around with furrowed brows for the source of the ring. When Sara's sable eyes settled on the nearby water fountain, she reached a hand out blindly to her supervisor, just barely swiping his arm. "Grissom..."

He turned to glance at her questioningly, still holding the phone to his ear, before following her gaze. He walked toward the small cell phone lying against the fountain, bending down to retrieve it and seeing his own number flashing back at him from the ID screen. His heart began to beat tachycardic in his chest as he slowly closed his own phone. There was no need for it now. Catherine wouldn't be answering.

* * *

TBC 


	3. Chapter 3

BINDINGS

Chapter 3 of ?  
Spoilers, etc.: See chapter one.

* * *

"You found just her cell phone lying against the fountain?"

Sara nodded solemnly, relaying the recent events to Nick and Warrick in the breakroom. "Not only that, but we found prints on the railing which are most likely Catherine's, and Grissom found a few stray hairs around the water fountain which, he swears, belong to Catherine too."

Warrick nodded thoughtfully. "Grissom would know..."

"Well, what I've found out is that this guy, whoever kidnapped Catherine, was working with John Mathers. Mathers wasn't a copycat," Nick reported.

"I know. I heard you talking to Grissom."

"So you know what this means." Warrick glanced at the two brunettes, sitting side-by-side on the opposite side of the breakroom table.

Both nodded slowly. "Since Mathers was working with this guy..." Nick drawled.

"And Catherine put him away, effectively 'taking him' from the other killer..." Sara chimed in.

Warrick nodded. "He takes Catherine away from us."

The three sat in silence for a long moment, each contemplating the fate of the strawberry-blonde and what this would do to not only the lab, but to their supervisor. Sara stared glumly at the surface of the table, her arms folded atop it as she stared through it, unseeing... while Nick sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest and his legs stretched out beneath the table. Warrick sat leaning foward in his chair, one elbow up on the table, hand cradling his forehead and occasionally rubbing over his eyes and face.

After several minutes of contemplative silence, Sara sighed and rose to her feet, patting her Texan companion on the shoulder. "I'm gonna go see how he's doing," she murmured. "Will you guys see what else you can find out?"

The men agreed immediately and Sara nodded her response, throwing a half-hearted wave in their direction before heading off to find Grissom.

* * *

Grissom headed straight for his office, glowering down at the manila envelope he held in his hand marked 'urgent'. What could possibly be urgent at a time like this?

He strode through his office door and slammed it behind him, finally being jarred out of his thoughts when a loud gasp filled his ears. He glanced up to see Sara Sidle seated in the chair opposite his desk, clutching her heart. "Geez, Grissom! You scared the crap out of me!"

One eyebrow made a slow climb while his eyes narrowed slightly, contemplating the young brunette's reasons for taking up residence in his previously-empty office. "What do you need, Sara?"

Sara slowly rose to her feet, straightening the tan corduroy jacket she wore over an army-green colored tee-shirt, her hands then falling to her sides. "I just... wanted to see how you were doing with this whole..." She gestured lamely, "Thing."

Without meeting her eyes and instead heading to sit behind his desk, he replied curtly, "As good as can be expected."

Sable eyes followed his path to his chair, moving downward with him as he sat and rolled inward toward the desk. She took a step toward him, her mouth opening and closing while she fumbled for words. "Y'know, Grissom... I know we haven't had the easiest relationship..." When he looked up at her she smiled just slightly. "Mostly because of me, but..." She then turned serious, "I hope you know you can talk to me if you need to, or if you want to. I know you try to distance yourself from your cases, but with this one..." She sighed. "Don't bottle it up. Please."

With this softly uttered plea, he stared at the young woman, his eyes searching hers for any sort of alterior motive. What he found there was genuine concern, and he nodded. "Thank you, Sara."

She nodded back, and smiled warmly, then gave a small wave and turned to head out the door as he began tearing open the manila envelope. She was two steps away from reaching the door when she heard his desk chair roll back... and she heard a loud, shocked gasp escape her supervisor. She immediately spun on her heel. "Grissom?"

He was on his feet, jaw slack and eyes wide as he stared down at a piece of paper resting atop the opened manila envelope. Sara furrowed her brow as she watched his fingers move toward the piece of paper, running downward over what appeared to be some sort of sketch... his expression never changing. She took a few steps into the room. "Grissom..."

He looked up at her with that same shell-shocked expression, obviously rendered speechless by whatever he'd seen... and she took the remaining steps to be at his side, glancing down at the sketch that had rattled him so. What she saw also managed to take her breath away. It was a drawing, resembling the others she'd earlier analyzed. What was depicted in this particular sketch was what rendered the two CSI's speechless.

Though it was somewhat of a caricature, the woman depicted was clearly Catherine, the expression on her face one of sheer terror. Tears pooled in her eyes, and a few were drawn spilling over onto her cheeks. Her mouth was gagged and her wrists bound, held up next to her face. Sara gulped as she noted that in this drawing, Catherine had been stripped down to her underwear and bra, and was huddled in a cramped space. "Oh God..." she whispered, fighting the bile slowly rising in her throat.

She could do nothing but stare at the sketch for what felt like hours on end... until she heard the shallow, rapid breathing emanating from the man next to her. When she dragged her eyes up his form and noted his chest heaving, her eyes widened. "Uh, Grissom?"

He stared at the picture, unseeing, not responding to Sara's call. His vision had tunneled, focusing only on the terrified expression on the face of his deity. And then, like an express train, it hit him. She could already be dead. It was that thought that sent him plummeting into darkness... and he didn't even feel it when he hit the floor.

* * *

TBC 


	4. Chapter 4

BINDINGS

Ch. 4  
Ratings/Spoilers/etc.: See ch. 1.

* * *

"Grissom!" Sara had reached out to catch him, but it had been too late. She'd almost been transfixed by the way the color had drained from his face... by how quickly pallor had overtaken him. She was now crouched over him on the floor, grabbing for his wrist to check for a pulse.

Upon finding one, she closed her eyes and let out a breath of relief, her chin dropping to her chest briefly before she looked up and hollered out the door, "NICK!"

While waiting for the sound of her partner's footfalls in the hallway, Sara immediately removed her jacket and bunched it up, lifting Grissom's head to place the jacket underneath, acting as a cushion. She then heard Nick's voice at the door. "Sair? Where are you? You know you're not supposed to be playing hide-and-seek in Grissom's office."

She jumped to her feet, pointing out the door. "Go get Doc Robbins, NOW!"

He furrowed his brow, not understanding the reason for her panic. "What? Why?"

She thrust the drawing into his hands before gesturing behind the desk. "Grissom saw this and passed out."

"Holy shit..." Nick muttered under his breath, an expression mixed of fury and fear spreading, and as he set the drawing on the desk, he looked up at his brunette counterpart, nodding with determination. "Hang on." He touched her hand briefly before practically running for the door, once more leaving Sara alone with their supervisor.

* * *

"Grissom? Grissom..."

A soft voice was calling to him, coaxing him out of the dark, a hand hanging on to his own. He squeezed the hand, eyelids fluttering as he slowly came to. "Cath?"

Sara frowned sadly, shaking her head though she knew he couldn't yet see this. "No, Grissom, it's me."

"Sara..." His eyes then came completely open, immediately fixing on the sight of his office ceiling, memories of where he was and what had happened slowly flooding back to him. What had caused him to black out? And then he shot upwards into a sitting position, eyes wild. "Oh God! Catherine!"

Sara placed a hand on his shoulder, easing him back... encouraging him to lean against his desk. "Easy," she warned him. "You passed out."

It was then he noticed the presence of Doc Robbins, Nick Stokes, and Jim Brass, all leaning over him with worry creasing their foreheads. "Catherine!" he exclaimed. "Somebody has to go find her! She could already be dead! The... the drawing..."

"Gil, you need to relax," Al Robbins instructed him, gently albeit sternly. "You took quite the swan dive, and there's a sizeable bump on the back of your head that proves it."

"Gil, Sheriff Atwater's on his way in to speak with you," Brass reported. "He was signing off on some reports when he heard about this new, erm... turn of events."

"Now?" he practically whined, and Sara couldn't help but smile. Despite the fall he took, and the emotional turmoil he was in, Grissom still hadn't lost his ability to grumble about the higher-ups.

"Gil..." It was at that precise moment that Rory Atwater strode into the graveshift supervisor's office, only looking slightly fazed to see the usually composed man sitting crumpled against his desk. "I got word of your, uh... condition."

Nick rolled his eyes. "He doesn't have a condition, he just fainted."

"Be that as it may..." Atwater shot the young CSI a look. "Under the circumstances in which this incident occurred, I have no choice but to take action."

Sara furrowed her brow, glancing surreptitiously at Grissom, who was busy rubbing at the spot on the back of his head, not paying attention to what the sheriff was saying. "What kind of action?" she asked.

Atwater sighed, returning his eyes to Grissom. "I have no choice but to remove you from this case, Gil."

That was the attention-grabber. His eyes shot upward to where the sheriff loomed over him. "What?"

"You cannot work this case anymore. Given your emotional involvement, and your um..." He cleared his throat, unsure how to phrase his next words, "your _history_ with Miss Willows... it would be best if you stepped away."

While Grissom numbly shook his head, turning his eyes to stare unfocused at the wall, Sara rose to her feet. "You can't do that!" she protested. "Sure, he's emotionally involved, but if that's your grounds for removing him you might as well remove us all! This is hurting all of us, but out of the whole graveyard shift, Grissom's the strongest leader and the most skilled investigator." She had to physically fight not to glare at Sheriff Atwater as she ground out, "You take Grissom off this case and you might as well sign Catherine's death certificate."

Atwater merely shook his head, only looking slightly sympathetic. "I'm sorry. I have no choice." With that, he took one last glance at the office's occupants before striding out.

Nick frowned toward the door. "Now what the hell's gonna happen?"

"We get back to work," Grissom answered, in a strained grunt as Sara and Brass helped him to his feet.

Brass inclined his head admonishingly. "Gil, you heard him. You're off the case. You can't be here."

A slow grin made its way across Nick's features. "Yeah, Brass, but you know that won't stop him. Remember when Mobley suspended him from the Strip Strangler case?"

"What do you want us to do, Grissom?" Sara asked softly, a crease between her eyebrows as she studied her supervisor, watching as he momentarily worried his bottom lip with his teeth.

He pointed to Nick. "I want _you_ to take the envelope to Mia, see if she can pull some DNA off the adhesive." He then pointed to Sara. "I want _you_ to analyze the drawing and see if you can find any similarities between that and the drawing of Kaitlin Rackish."

She nodded once. "You got it."

"Grab Greg and Warrick and have them help where they can, too."

"And you?" Doc Robbins enquired with a raised brow.

"I... need some headache medication." He grimaced and rubbed the back of his head, while Robbins chuckled and nodded toward the door.

"I've got some down the hall. You should ice that bump while you're at it, too."

"I'll be fine, Al," Grissom replied, following the doctor to the door, "We all just need to get to work and bring Catherine back."

* * *

TBC 


	5. Chapter 5

BINDINGS

Chapter 5  
Spoilers/Rating/etc.: See ch. 1.

* * *

"Got anything yet?" Sara asked as she strolled into the evidence room, the drawing of Catherine sealed in a manila evidence bag not just to keep away prying eyes, but to keep away the disturbing, heart-wrenching image.

Nick shook his head, busy glancing over the other comic book drawings spread across the lit-up evidence table. "Nothin' yet," he drawled. "Mia's working on that DNA from the envelope, and Greg and Warrick are checking out the van for any more clues about the Rackish murder."

Sara nodded, pursing her lips, then tossed the evidence bag onto the table. "I looked that drawing over inch by inch," she murmured, shaking her head as she took a seat on the stool beside Nick. "Aside from the pose and general look of the sketch, there's nothing connecting it with the drawing of Kaitlin."

"Well, the van was already in our possession by the time Catherine was taken, so... that makes sense."

She sighed, shaking her head. "What the hell are we gonna do, Nick?" she asked softly, bravely reaching forward to take the drawing out of its envelope. When her gaze settled on the fearful look drawn in Catherine's eyes, she felt her own start to water -- fear, anger, and sadness gripping her insides like a vise. "What are we gonna do if he... if he k--"

"Hey, hey..." Nick placed an arm around his companion supportively, rubbing her back in small circles. He pressed a brief, chaste kiss to her temple, wiping the few tears that had begun to escape. "Don't dwell on that, Sara. Just don't." His voice was low, placating yet confident... strong. "We will find her. We'll find her, and get her back safe and alive. Just--"

"Guys!" Greg Sanders' spikey-haired form appeared in the doorway, the expression on his face one of exuberance, while Warrick stepped up behind him.

"What?"

"We got something from the van." Greg held out two items to the brunette CSI's, one being an evidence bag filled with a strange black powder... the other a sheet of paper printed from the GCMS.

Nick took the bag while Sara took the piece of paper, her chestnut eyes scanning the information laid out on the page while Nick opened the baggie and took a whiff of whatever was inside. "Toner?" Sara enquired, turning her eyes up to Warrick and Greg, who had now stepped fully into the room.

Greg nodded while Warrick reached across the table, pulling the drawing toward him. As his eyes did a visual sweep of it, he shook his head, his voice a disdainful whisper. "That son of a bitch..."

Greg, who'd opened his mouth to continue filling Nick and Sara in on his findings, suddenly looked over to the drawing that held Warrick's attention. When his eyes settled on Catherine's familiar features, they widened. "Whoa, damn."

"Guys, gimme that." Sara plucked the drawing from their fingers and slid it back into the evidence envelope, taping it shut once again. "Enough people have seen it, now." She pointed sternly at Greg. "And don't you go spreading word of this all around the lab!"

He held up his hands in surrender, genuine innocence on his boyish features. "Hey, never about something like this. I take this stuff way too seriously."

Nick then steered the conversation back onto its original course. "So what would toner be doing in that van?"

"That was my question," Warrick replied. "And according to the GCMS, it's not just ordinary, 'home-copier' toner. It's for a real, industrial copying machine. Ones they use in business offices and stuff."

"Or college campuses," Sara chimed in, raising an eyebrow.

The four young CSI's shared looks, before Nick and Warrick rose to head to the campus, and Sara and Greg headed for the Denalis.

* * *

"So who uses these copy machines?"

A young man stared at Nick, nervousness twitching at his lips while he gestured to one of the large copy machines. "Well, anyone that comes into the Student Union can use 'em... as long as they've got some sort of campus ID."

Nick nodded, tossing a brief glance at Warrick, who was busy studying the buttons on the copy machine. "So students and staff, basically."

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Hey Nick..." Warrick's voice drew the Texan's attention.

"Hmm?"

He nodded toward something sitting atop the copy machines, narrowing his startling blue eyes at it. "Notice the binding?"

The young student union worker gestured to the machine. "Yeah, that's our binding machine. Some professors require you to bind essays and papers. Normally it's pretty expensive to do it professionally, but we only charge a buck for every document you bind."

Nick and Warrick nodded in unison, exchanging a glance before Warrick spoke up. "Anyone ever use it to bind comic books?"

The kid shrugged. "Sure." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing inside an office. "One of our guys here makes his own comic books."

"That guy have a name?" Nick drawled, raising an eyebrow.

"Kevin Greer."

The two CSI's exchanged another glance, then Nick asked, "Does Mr. Greer happen to be working right now?"

"No, he left maybe, uh... ten minutes ago?" The kid nodded. "His shift ends at eight-thirty."

"Okay. Thanks for your time," Warrick replied, then gestured to Nick with his head for them to leave.

Once outside, on the steps leading away from the building, Warrick sighed. "Eight-thirty. Well, that's awfully convenient."

"Yeah..." Nick nodded, brows furrowed and lips set in a firm scowl. "Just in time for the evening classes to let out."

* * *

TBC 


End file.
